Breakfast in Bed Part 1
by E.J. Cady
Summary: Mmmm...breakfast...
1. Chapter 1

Bare feet padded down the hall to the second door on the left in the two bedroom condo on a Saturday morning. The chill of November didn't bother its inhabitants with the comfort of heat warming the home generously. Small hands carried two blue plastic bowls as if she were balancing fine china with two spoons teetering inside. When Cadence got to the door she sat the bowl with the other treasure she collected to make her mother's breakfast. Checking each item off in her mental checklist she dragged the milk, she carried the two bowls, she commandeered two different types of cereal from the cabinet via a stool, she had two spoons. She still felt like something was missing, but for now she was satisfied with what she had.

Opening the door to a crack she peaked in happy to see her mothers were still sleeping heaps in the bed. Usually one of them was up by now on the weekdays to get her ready for school, but she felt like surprising both of them with breakfast. Getting on her knees in her Dora the Explorer pajama pants the little girl with skin that would be fair if not for a subtle hint of color first separated the bowls and poured generous amounts of cereal in each bowl. That was the easy part. Now, she needed to pour the milk which was probably the hardest task since it was a new jug. She picked it up by the handle supporting it from the bottom with her other hand. She tipped it gently and slowly feeling her muscles shake at the strain of trying to keep the jug under control. Frowning in concentration she poured slowly proud of her progress as she saw the milk being saturated by a white blanket. With cereal floating and moving to the sway of the recently poured milk she guided the milk jug over to the second bowl of cereal that took a more colorful direction.

Completely startled when her mother's door opened the slight angle began a dramatic dip and the milk ended up soaking the floor, her knees, and splattered on the feet and legs of the woman everyone said she looked most like.

"Oops," Cadence winced holding a now mostly empty jug of milk.

Pam surprised by her daughter and the uncomfortable feel of milk on her body crouched down with a curved brow, "good morning to you to."

A rush of words came together in her defense and tears brimmed with pouting full lips that Pam pressed her fingers to as she shushed her daughter.

"Shhh…you're going to wake your mother," she whispered. Instructing her to get a large rag from under the kitchen sink she collected the bowls, boxes, and spoons while her daughter easily carried the almost empty jug in search of a rag.

Turning at her waist Pam made sure Tara was still sleeping and she wasn't disappointed to find the woman was dead to the world, thankfully. She had a long week at work and Pam like her daughter it seemed had the same thing in mind, breakfast in bed. Unfortunately, her daughter beat her to it.

"I found it," a rag was pushed into her stomach.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

Pam cleaned up the mess inwardly congratulating herself on her adamancy for wood floors. When she was done and the heavy towel soaked with milk was thrown away and the spot was cleaned again with a Lysol wipe and a dry towel she washed her hands and recruited her daughter to cook a real breakfast in bed.

"Ma, who taught you how to cook?" her daughter asked as she saw her mother cracking eggs in a bowl. When she washed her hands she was given the job to take the jelly out of the fridge and procure a kiwi and two oranges.

"My mom."

"Who taught her how to cook?"

Pam smiled stirring the eggs together for scrambled eggs, "her mother."

The girl sat on the stool holding her fruit still so it wouldn't roll off the countertop. "You gonna teach me how to cook?"

"If you want to learn," she answered patiently.

"I want to," the girl said eagerly her smile deflating a little, "but…"

Pam paused at the open refrigerator glad she had had the forethought to leave the turkey bacon in the fridge with the idea for breakfast in bed nagging at her just before she went to bed last night.

"But what baby?"

Cadence bit the side of her lip self consciously, "people say I look more like you, but I act more like mama."

Pam curious as to where this line of questioning came from turned the oven for the biscuits and checked the butter in her pans to make sure they were melting. Turning her attention on her daughter because she knew the child wouldn't finish until she had her undivided attention—she liked to be looked at as if it told her the person she was talking to was listening to her.

"Well, you banned mama from the kitchen 'cause she burned water that one time….what are you going to do if I burned water?"

Holding in her amusement Pam turned her back on her daughter long enough to put the biscuits in and check the butter again and take another pan out for the bacon she also placed in the oven.

"My love, there's still hope for you, but your mama's been on this earth for thirty something years and she's still hopeless in the kitchen."

This made her daughter giggle.

"So I can become a master chef?"

"You can become anything you want to be," the words fell out of her mouth before she could censor the hallmark card answer. Although the smile that greeted her was well worth the sting of having uttered the cliché in the first place. It amazed her how fitting they were during these bonding moments with her daughter.

They cooked or rather Pam showed her daughter how to cook and explained the do's and don'ts in the kitchen while food cooked. Sharing little details like all the food can be served hot if the longest food to cook is started first and the quickest food is cooked last. The girl nodded and questioned and then nodded again and it became a dance between mother and daughter in the kitchen. For Pam it was especially nice to give her daughter something other than fabulous genes because Cadence did take after Tara more than she did her. She wondered if it had anything to do with Tara being posted up near her stomach during her pregnancy whispering stories and telling secrets and caressing Pam's stomach like it was the baby's own skin. For whatever reason they'd bonded quickly and she didn't mind mostly she adored watching her favorite girls in action—however moments like these were precious as well if not more.

"Can I do it?" her daughter asked her side looking expectantly at the oranges her mother had cut and now were arranging on the plate.

She stopped herself from picking her daughter up knowing that the girl was in her independent phase. She pulled a stool to her and climbed atop it reaching for the towel to wipe her hands then she began arranging the fruit into the most adorable smile Pam had ever had the pleasure of chuckling at.

Cadence examining her work was well aware of her smiling mother behind her and asked, "you think she'll like it?"

Pursing her lips as if she were giving this some serious thought, the blond finally answered, "I think she will."

Pam grabbed the wooden tray for the plate and the glasses while her daughter carried a tightly shut jug of orange juice after she explained it wouldn't be opened until they got to the bed. Cadence agreed wholeheartedly and followed her mother mimicking her careful steps down the hall to the bedroom.

"You're not supposed to be up!" Cadence yelled speeding by Pam and jumping on the bed when she saw her dark skinned mother sitting up against the pillows, "why are you awake?"

"Cause I smelled something delicious."

"What'd you smell?"

"I smelled Cadence and I'm going to eat her."

"Don't eat me!" the girl make a half hearted attempt to escape her mother's clutches, "we made breakfast."

"I thought I was eating breakfast," she stopped pretending to chew on her daughter's arm.

"Nooo," the girl laughed pointing to Pam who now used to the horse playing didn't worry as much when Cadence jumped at her mother and they began to wrestle playfully. "That's breakfast, eggs, bacon and biscuits," she explained slowly.

"You're not breakfast?" Tara asked confusion written on her face.

The girl shook her head rolling down her sleeve to her top matching her Dora the Explorer pants.

"Oh," she pushed the girl away looking expectantly at her wife who finally came forward sitting the tray down when she gave her daughter a warning look that there would be no playing on the bed with a tray of food on it. These were her favorite sheets.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday morning and the Thornton's were enjoying a peaceful start of the day. Pam sat the kitchen table moderately distracted by her lover's rummaging and Tara too distracted by her own rummaging to notice her wife studying her. They had Saturday off from being devoted mothers when Lafayette Tara's brother volunteered to keep her Friday night and Saturday with the promise of dropping her off today.

It was pleasant and peaceful, not to say she didn't enjoy her little ball of energy, she missed making breakfast in bed with her daughter. But, it was a tradition they'd more than make up for missing this weekend for the next.

"I hate those shorts," a blond with full lips and a kimono robe examined her lover over her mug as she sipped.

Tara smiled with her back to Pam as she continued to look through the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen for a pair of gloves she could have sworn she discarded somewhere.

"I'm going to burn them," Pam said as a matter fact. Her eyes were glued to the appalling shorts that extended beyond Tara's knees and had torn patches, holes, and scattered colors from where paint from different projects didn't wash out.

Tara ignored her lover's threats, "babe have you seen my gloves?"

"I don't think you realize the severity of those atrocious shorts. They're so loose they don't do you justice. They're seconds from falling apart—I hope it happens in public—it'd serve you right for being so stubborn."

With a sidelong glance to the blond Tara smirked, "I'll take that as a no. What are your plans today?" She knew the answer would most likely include lounging the morning away until she found herself feeling too unproductive, even for a Saturday, and find something to do.

Pam still stared at the shorts recollecting, "I could have sworn I threw them out."

"You_ tried_ to throw them out."

The blond in the robe scowled in disbelief, "you fished through garbage for those?"

"They're comfortable," Tara defended her shorts. "And lucky."

"They're ugly, and do absolutely nothing for your figure."

Tara leaned on the counter crossing her arms, "who am I trying to impress?"

Pam's brow quirked upward as if to say the answer was self explanatory.

The dark skinned woman chuckled to herself.

"I think you've gotten too comfortable in all this domestic bliss. Before you know it I'll be carrying you around in a wheel barrel while you're popping beer bottles with your teeth."

"Like you'd risk breaking a nail to push me in a wheel barrel," Tara left the room when she realized how serious Pam was about destroying her shorts.

"This is funny to you?"

"Hilarious," Tara stalked to her partner kissing her on the forehead as she collected her dirty dishes and took them to a sink.

"I was reading this article in a magazine about married life."

"Oh no," Tara countered.

"I want a little eye candy."

Tara smirked, "hon, I have no problem with you looking as long as you don't touch—isn't there are a landscaper you've had your eyes on across the street doing work on the Samuel's yard?"

Pam's eyes widened.

"What? You thought I didn't know? "

"That's innocent."

"I believe you baby." She waved her at Walmart specials, "shorts are just shorts and eye candy is just eye candy."

"I don't agree," Pam hiked her left brow determined to win this argument she got up from the kitchen table and claimed a handful of the shorts tugging them playfully.

"Careful," Tara warns.

"I can't seem to get them undone," Pam tugged again uselessly. The pitch in her voice changes and her eyes wander until it lands on the drawer Tara just finished combing through. She pulls out at the shorts again bringing her other hand around and with it the scissors she retrieved from the drawer.

"Wha—"

Pam kisses her wife. A deep and probing kiss that momentarily distracts Tara long enough from the blond's machinations. Breaking from hungry lips Pam moves her attention down the dark woman's neck tossing the scissors back where she found them and bringing her fingers to the bottom of her lover's shirt. She gets on her knees and slamming Tara's hips into the counter watching them spread on their own volition waiting eagerly for Pam's mouth.

"Fuck baby," Tara can't stand it when Pam teases. Rubbing her nose over Tara's sensitive lips she inhales the scent of need and her mouth partially parts prompting Tara to dip her hip and hopefully collide with her lover's tongue.

Surprised by the warmth of her tongue, pleasantly surprised, Tara doesn't bother to wonder why her lover didn't take her time with her torture as she usually does. Instead she dives in with long, slow, and thorough flicks of her tongue careful to pay close attention to the soaked folds around the clit.

Tara hisses. Grabbing onto the corner of the counter top for dear life, "P…p…baby," she rushes out moving her hips to meet Pam's teasing tongue, "please." Her whimpers go unnoticed as Pam takes her time with her lover.

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Tara's breathing calms as she stares at the ceiling getting her breathing back under control. Her legs gave out on her during the blond's relentless onslaught and down she went to be pleasured beyond feeling, "I can't feel my legs," she mumbled against the blond head of hair resting on her stomach. Naked from the waist down she feels Pam's nails digging into her skin lightly,

"That was fucked up, you ruined my shorts."

"A casualty of war," Pam murmurs unapologetically her eyes half closed from Tara's fingers playing through her hair. "In my defense I _really _hated those shorts."

"In your defense…you're a piece of work I hope you know that."

"A fucking work of art don't you mean?" Pam straddles Tara.

"That's a stretch," the dark skinned woman didn't oblige her wife.

"Fuck you."

"You did that quite thoroughly," Tara grabbed her by her waist and sat up snaking her tongue out to Pam's slinking robe. "I think I should return the favor."

"Hmmm….."

"Or," she groaned when the phone rang, "one of us can answer that."

Pam stood while her wife remained on the floor watched her with one hand holding her head up. The conversation was brief, but both women knew that their one on one playtime had to come to an end. The real world was knocking via their boisterous daughter and her considerate uncle who called before driving up and surprising them with their pants down, or at least Tara's pants down.

"Our daughter's going to be her in minutes you might want to put some pants on."

"Yea," Tara began to rise taking her ruined shorts with her, "since these are useless."

On her way to the room she heard Pam chuckling to herself very proud of her handiwork. Tara smiled as well, but kept that part quiet. She couldn't have her wife thinking she could assassinate her wardrobe whenever Tara wore something she didn't like. One leg after the other she finished buttoning a new pair of jean shorts when her daughter came bouncing in very proud of something in her arms.

"Look look look what I got!" she screamed the mantra until Tara finally got a hold of her long enough to keep her still to read the book's title. The young girl was proud to display it. Putting Cadence over her shoulder Tara confiscates the book and leads her daughter to the kitchen with Lafayette and her wife.

"I'm guessing you had something to do with this?" she handed the book to her brother, "The I Can't Cook Book? You're hilarious."

"Don't put that on me that one picked it out I didn't know she was old enough to read," he shrugged.

Pam smiled warmly at the duo grabbing her daughter from Tara's arms planting a kiss on Tara's cheek to reassure her, "you make a mean scrambled egg."

"But mom she forgot a shell in them last time."

"Sometimes is the thought that counts and not the execution," Pam tried to explain putting her daughter down. "How was she?" she asked Lafayette when her daughter grabbed her book and disappeared in her bedroom.

"Like an angel—she definitely got that part from you."

Slightly offended that Lafayette was willing to give all the 'good' genes to her wife Tara stated the obvious, "I'm still in the room."

"I see you," he deadpanned before he shared he had to run. "Give Iron Chef a kiss for me will ya?" he waved bye as he headed out the daughter leaving the two mothers in the kitchen wondering what concoctions their daughter would want to prepare now that she had a whole book of ideas.


End file.
